


Remember?

by Delicate_Doll



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Ballet, Character Study, Drowning, M/M, Memory Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delicate_Doll/pseuds/Delicate_Doll
Summary: Whipped Cream Cookie is one of the sweetest around! With a deep love for his friends, ballet, and tall, dark, handsome cookies that waltz into his life every now and again though, he also tends to be a little forgetful.





	Remember?

 

 

Your name is Whipped Cream Cookie, and you've decided today is going to be a good day. You've had a lot of _great_ days recently, and while those would be fantastic to continue on you worry you'll use them all up before the year is out, so just good will do.

You spring out of bed when you hear your alarms sweet, chiming music begin to play. 6:30 exactly. Cheesy though it may be, Dance of the little swans always manages to put a little extra pep in your step. Maybe you're just sort of a cheesy person, and you're okay with that too.

Rosette trills sweetly from her bed, and you coo at her, but she stays where she is. Another day of lounging it is then. While you adore your sweet little rose, with your routine as rough as it is she gets so exhausted; both of you agreed it would be better for her to stay home most days.

You get dressed and packed in no time, humming along to the soft trilling notes. It almost _itches_ how bad you want to start dancing when the song swells to its climax, but there are bigger fish to fry. Namely, breakfast. Today is a practice day anyway, you'll get your ballet out later.

You _want_ to eat most everything in the kitchen, but end up settling on a fruit cup (With a little sugar on top of course... Maybe a little more. Maybe a _lot_ more.)

You stumble out of the apartment one fruit cup and 17 sugar packets heavier, gym bag securely on your back and leg warmers already starting to fall. If your legs get cold for even a minute these are going in the trash, the traitors. You check your watch once you hit the bottom of the stairs, panting softly. 6:45. Nice.

The town is still sleepy and still as you jog through, and you couldn't be happier. No one out meant no one to call out to you when they see you loop back for the third time. It's just- there's this new little coffeehouse where Herb Cookie works and you've only gone a few days now (A week at most), and the street names get so confusing so- better that they're empty is all. You _do_ find it though, and while you don't hit exactly your mark you're pretty pleased with yourself. 7:04, not terrible.

Entering feels like absolute heaven, warmth and smells hitting you like a gentle wave, and you feel parts of yourself relax you hadn't even known were tense. Herb Cookie stands behind the counter, looking sleepy but happy, and waves to you when he notices your presence.

"Whipped Cream! I was hoping you'd swing in again, there's this new type of bean we got in this morning and I'd love for you to try this new drink I've been planning." He leans over the counter slightly, making you giggle as he stage whispers. "Gonna put black ivory to _shame_."

You have no idea what black ivory is, but feel excited nonetheless for your friend. When he's excited, _you’re_ excited. "That sounds wonderful Herb, but... how fast can you make it? I have an appointment at the gym at..." When was the appointment again? You got up at 6:30... out the door by 6:45 and it's a little past seven so...

Herb smiles patiently at you, and you blush a little, embarrassed, before clapping your hands together excitedly when you remember "7:30! My appointment is for 7:30!"

"...Uh." he starts "I'm not really sure how long it will take. I mean-- I've never had a drink take _that_ long before but it's new and... Well I don't want to chance you being late." Oh. The two of you droop for a moment, momentum crashing in disappointment and -- no!

Today is a good day, and even if you have to work to make it good you're going to have fun. "I can come in after practice! It'll be late afternoon- maybe even evening but I could spend as long as you want."

He brightens up too, nodding at the idea. "That sounds good! I could practice too, so it doesn't kill you on the first sip. "

"It's a plan then." You beam, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "I'll just take my usual for now then."

"Coming right up Whipped!" Herb takes a step to the kitchen, then a step back to you, laughing a little. "Care to remind me what exactly your usual is? Haven't been coming here _that_ long, silly." You laugh a little too, smiling- maybe you did get a little ahead of yourself- but pause when you start thinking... what _is_ your drink?

You've ordered the same thing here most every time, you know what you like by now, but looking up at the expansive menu you find yourself at a complete loss.

"...Whip?"

You make a sort of distressed noise back, still staring up at the menu. Something chocolaty? You love chocolate, but you don't think you could have survived drinking it _every day_. Maybe something richer...? Or-- or maybe lighter actually? How could you forget? Oh, he's waiting on you what do you do this is so embarrassing-

"Pink cafe mocha, extra whipped cream; remember?"

"Yes! Yes that's it I'm so sorry Herb--"

"It's no trouble-- my memory isn't the best either sometimes buddy." He sets a tablet down behind the counter (which was probably used to look up your order history) and goes back to the kitchen, leaving you with your thoughts for a minute.

 _Every day_ you've ordered that, why'd you lose it all the sudden? Pink cafe mocha, extra whipped cream. Half of it is your namesake even! You repeat it over and over to yourself, determined to not let this happen again. Pink cafe mocha, extra whipped cream. Pink cafe mocha, extra whipped cream!  _Pink cafe mocha, extra_ -

"Whipped Cream!" You startle a little when your name is called, coming back to yourself to collect your drink (your pink cafe mocha with extra whipped cream) and pay Herb. "Have a good day!"

"I'm trying! I'll see you later!" you call as you exit the sweet little shop. 7:19. You can make it if you run. You tilt your head back, downing about half of your drink so it won't slosh- and take off like a shot.

Other early risers are starting to mill around the streets now too- but you don't worry about them. Unlike the shop, you've been going to the same gym for almost two years now, no way you could forget the way. You skid into the entrance right as your watch chimes 7:30. _Nice_.

You take a second to breathe, stretching your arms leisurely above your head as you walk up to the console. Now, where did you put- ah-ha! You snag the gym id off your bag strap, quite pleased with yourself for the forethought to put it there and scan it to enter. And scan to enter? Um. _And scan to enter_. For some reason, it's not accepting your card, and you're stuck on the wrong side of the gate. You don't really know how to handle this.

You stay there, lost and growing anxious when the Attendant Cookie takes notice of your little predicament and turns on their heel to walk over, apologetic and quiet when they speak. "Machine won't take it?"

You shake your head no, worrying your lip slightly. "No- I, I _thought_ I was paid up until the end of the year I don't know why it's-"

"Easy, they've just been a little glitchy lately. Can I see your card?" You hand it over, pressing the card flush to the machine and bopping it a few times. You're less than impressed with their methods, but after a few strikes it does, in fact, flash green. "There we go! I'm sorry about that sir, enjoy your time here."

You thank him too before quickly scampering off to the far left weight room. Knowing your gym partner he'll no doubt have something to say about-

"Whipped Cream! Thought you forgot about me little buddy, you're late.” Muscle Cookie greets you, somehow already shirtless and drenched in sweat. Three minutes. You're only _three minutes tardy_.

"I'm allowed to be a little late now and again- like everyone else!" You say, defensive as you set your bag down.

"True, but have to be careful with you. Got a 50/50 chance you'll remember to show."

You make a face at him as you wriggle out of your sweater. _Rude_... Should you leave the legwarmers? There's a risk of your legs getting _too_ warm, but you ultimately decide no, no what you have here is a _look_ and the legwarmers are very much part of it.

You move to the dumbbell rack and scoop up your 8 pounders, rolling your shoulders a little. You really don't like weight day, but necessary evils and all.

Before you can start your reps though, Muscle makes a disapproving hum. You ignore it and begin. He makes the sound again, louder, and sets his weights down. Nope, not gonna deal with it. You're here for wrist curls, not lectures.

"Whipped." He says flatly.

"Mhm?" You respond, not bothering to look over.

"It's Thursday. Why are you on weights?"

"...Because Wednesday is weight day?" He looks at you funny, and it takes you a second to process what exactly just came out of your mouth. Wednesday _is_ weight day- but it's not Wednesday... but Wednesday _was_ weight day- what's happening. What year is it? Who are you? "...Uh."

Apparently unable to help it, Muscle starts laughing, making you laugh too. You can't stay upset (or confused or embarrassed) when his laugh rings out, and you've never met someone who could. It's all the right kinds of warm, equal parts goofy and comforting.

"Whipped. Weight day _was_ Wednesday, you moved it to Tuesday when you tore your hip flexor. _It’s Thursday_ , pilates day. Got it?"

You smile, hitting the side of your head lightly (should have put the dumbbell down first but it's okay! You're okay- didn't _really_ hurt). "Ow- I've got it! Got all mixed up, sorry! Pilates- right! Thanks, Muscle, dunno how I could forget."

He nods, going back to pumping, and you set your weights down- starting to stretch. Monday is jogging. Tuesday is weights day. Wednesday is...yoga! You did yoga yesterday, and today is pilates, so tomorrow is another jogging day. You've got this, just slipped up a little. Routines help quite a lot, and you were trying to go off an old routine- no biggie.

"You know what pilate day means?" You ask slyly, popping your back. Almost ready.

"Speaker's already set up Whip, go nuts." You giggle and whip out your phone, pulling up the infamous '80s super sugar rush workout playlist and hooking it up.

Today is going to be a good day.

Four hours later, you feel exhausted, damp, and entirely sick of the '80s- but all around pretty happy. Your cooldown consists of sipping your water and leaning on the wall while you spot Muscle Cookie, and by the time he's had enough, you feel close enough to a real person you can gather your things and wave goodbye.

Alright. Lunch, train ride, rehearsal - _in that order._ You walk to the grocery store a few blocks away from the gym, and while you hear the candy aisle sweetly calling your name, settle for an autumn salad. You wonder if it's _really_ an autumn salad since it's spring and all. Is that false advertising? Is the store allowed to sell it? Did you just buy an illegal salad? Since you're eating it, could you be charged with destruction of evidence against the grocery store?

Your wonderings lead you through the city to the little train station, then through buying a ticket and finding a seat. Weird. You idly munch on your illegal salad as the train rattles on, finishing up right as you hit your stop. Perfect.

Walking into the theatre is a refreshing change of pace. No matter how busy or hectic things might be on or behind the stage, the world feels calm here.

You're early, and the stage is claimed by a contemporary duet, so you mosey backstage to put your bag down. Better early than late after all. Might as well get dressed you suppose. The sweater, your jogging shorts, and legwarmers all come off, leaving you in your leotard tights and sneakers, respectively. You sigh, wondering where Skating Queen Cookie is while you dig through your bag for your pointes. She's normally early too...

The two of you aren't the best of buddies, not by a long shot, but she's been a massive help these past few months.

The performance this Saturday is a medley of several shows, styles, and dancers. You had to beg, plead, and cash in a few (a dozen) favors to get a big a timeslot as you did, but it can with some conditions.

First and foremost, you were helping out all the little ones with their opening routine. You would have volunteered anyway, as that particular favor included most all your favorite things ( Kids, the waltz of the flowers, and even more ballet ), but it's the second that gave you real grief. The director wanted to design your main routine. The director _had_ designed your main routine already, it was just up to you to learn it in time. You'd enthusiastically agreed, confident in his understanding of your preferences and talents, but the first weeks of trying it were...terrible.

There was plenty of airtime in it for you, but the way each leap and bound was interwoven had you stumbling to keep up with even some of the basics. The routine just wasn't clicking, and despite throwing yourself at it each and every day, _wouldn’t_ click. That's when you called Skating Queen.

If your kind of practice wasn't working, fine. You'd just have to talk to someone with a different kind, and no ones were more different than Skatings. No nonsense, hard discipline, Skating Queen. The first few days the two of you butted heads something awful, but you made it through stronger than ever. And _better_ than ever, with the show only a few days away the routine practically sings for you.

At this point in the game she's here mostly for moral support, which you could do without honestly, but appreciate. Your rival always keeps things constructive, but a 'Good job' here and there wouldn't kill her would it?

"Whipped Cream!" oh, there she is. You turn to greet her, only to find both hands on her hips, scowl set on her face. There's a moment of panic where you honestly consider running, but it passes quickly enough.

"Skating Queen. I was just wondering where you were. In a kind of roundabout way, I guess, but you were still very present, and now you're even more present because you're right here but-"

" _Whipped Cream._ " She says again, frown deepening. You're not really sure what to do here, so you go to your failsafe.

"...I'm sorry?"

She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You left your shoes here yesterday."

"Oh! I was just looking for those too, thank you for telling-"

"Stop interrupting, I'm not done." You're pretty sure she's been the one interrupting, but keep it to yourself. Best to just let her go. "Do you remember what I told you before you left?" You open your mouth to answer, fairly sure that when someone asks you a question that’s the protocol, but Skating Queen apparently has different ideas. "I asked you 'Whipped Cream, do you have everything?' and you said '...No. I need my pointes' and I said 'don't forget them' do you recall that little exchange?"

"... Yes?"

"I'm honored. _I_  also remember you getting a text and checking your phone not 30 seconds after that conversation, then you walking right out of here without them!" You feel sufficiently scolded, small under her gaze. She thankfully notices, and it softens significantly as the onstage music trails off. "...Look. A great performer is great on and off the stage, and I'm honestly concerned with just how little effort you make to remember things Whip. It's going to bite you someday, I just want-"

One of the two performers walks by the two of you, saying the stage is now good to go. You thank him and quickly move past Skater Queen, collecting your shoes. Right where you left them.

"Can we talk about this later? Please? Don't want to waste rehearsal time."

Her lips press into a line, but she yields, moving to go sit in the audience. You need this. You tie up your shoes in record time, hook up your iPod to the speakers, and take your mark. Left leg forward, back bent low, head up. Deep breath. Today is a good day, and sometimes good days need a little help to get good. Ballet helps more than you can really explain.

Three, two, one, and you're off. For a little under 30 minutes, you lose yourself to the dance. The symphony chosen for you is a mixed bag, bold brass pushing your jumps higher and higher and fluttering woodwinds taking your breath as you twirl. You love it. You love being here, love the way you feel almost completely engulfed in the music yet perfectly aware of each muscle, love the air when you jump and love the stage when you roll.

You're brought slightly out of your bliss, sadly, by something you do _not_ love towards the end of the routine. The second to last trick always gets you. Not that you _can’t_ do it, you've successfully performed it each and every rehearsal, but you just don't _like_ it. It breaks the mood, makes the finale less _final_ , is (in your opinion) dull to watch. Oh, what is it called...you see it very clearly in your mind, but the name refuses to come to you. Some sort of spin... Doesn't matter.

As you draw closer and closer to it, you get less and less excited. What the final move needs, _really_ needs, is a leap. Nothing big, but flashy to draw attention. It'd be easier to go into the final jump too, and the drop at the end would be so much more dramatic if in your final seconds you were airborne just a little longer.

Maybe. Maybe you'll talk to the director. He's always open when he hears a good idea- and as you hit the second to last you do your idea instead and nail the finale, brilliantly proving that it _is_ a good idea. Your heart is pounding, that was great! You feel great, that was fantastic, you nailed it- so much better than before you loved it you _loved_ it you loved it! Today is a good day.

You sit on the edge of the stage, panting but smiling brightly as Skating Queen makes her way over to you. Only... only she doesn't look nearly elated as you do. Kind of upset actually.

"What was that." She asks when she reaches you, tone hard.

"My routine," you reply, a little cautiously. Probably let your arms get stiff in the middle again- it's her most common note and-

"Well obviously it was yours Whip, but I thought you were performing the _directors_ routine for this show." Oh- oh she means the little change at the end- just confused probably.

"I changed it a little, yes, at the very end there. The old penultimate was kind of a bad fit, and I thought that another leap would suit it much better so-"

"Did you forget the second to last move Whip?" she cuts in, suspicious. You place a light hand of your chest, a little defensive.

"No! I told you I thought a leap would be better so-"

"Then tell me what the old move was." She keeps cutting you off, and you're getting quite flustered because of it. You haven't quite hit upset yet, but trying to think of the move is getting you there fast. What was it- some sort of spin or-...was it? You knew it onstage, could see it almost- but it's not coming now at all. _What was it?_ Your lack of an answer is damnation, and Skater Queen presses it. "What was the move Whip? You've done it for months Whip, almost every day. _What was it?_ "

"I don't... I don't know. But that's not-"

"I knew it! You can't just change something because you forget it Whipped Cream, this is your routine, and you _stick to your routine_. This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about- I was worried your memory issue was going to start affecting you onstage- and _clearly_ , it already has!"

"That's not why I changed it!" you insist "I don't have a _problem_ and you're not listening to me! I thought a jump would do better in that spot - and it did!" You did forget, but she's being unreasonable.

"It was _covering_ for your slip up! You couldn't remember and decided 'Hm, I better find a place holder, she won't notice', well I _did_ Whip. I've been here every day to help keep you on track, and every day it's _something_ with you- and it's all little things so everyone lets you get away with it- but this is a _big_ thing. Do you understand?"

You grip hard to the end of the stage, head down so your bangs cover your eyes. You were _not_ covering and you were _not_ lying. You don't get it- you're in the right- why do you feel so bad? Is... Are you guilty? Is that what this is? You really _didn’t_ know the move, maybe...

You hear her sigh softly, then feel her hand lightly on your shoulder. "Whip.. look. When I was a little kid I had a spotty memory too. Every now and again the world just wouldn't make any sense, numbers and names and faces that just didn't fit together." she says, soft but firm- like she's trying to keep you from crying. That's probably exactly what she's doing. "A lot of people have it actually, but this... This is more than every now and again. And you're not a little kid Whipped Cream. We can cut it here for today since you're a little upset, but tomorrow I think we should come back and try again okay? Same time? Whip?"

Your throat feels sandpapery and tight, so speaking is out of the question right now. You nod instead, keeping your head low. You want to go home now anyway.

She sighs again and gives you your space to collect her bag.

You sit there for a few minutes, upset with her, upset with the stupid second to last move, but mostly upset with yourself. Only after you hear the heavy auditorium door close do you stand, shuffling to collect your things. It was a good day. It was a... It _is_ a good day. Sometimes good days take a little work, and you won't this mess up your good day. You have a memory problem. When there's a problem, you take a second to breathe- then fix it. This is no different. You'll go home, rest up, and tomorrow - you're going to fix it.

Despite this resolution, you don't feel better on the way out of the theater. Or on the train ride home. Or on the walk back to your apartment. Or even when you go to bed a whole 5 hours early, and getting extra sleep always makes you feel better. You just feel queasy though. Maybe a little achy in the chest.

Rosette trills worriedly at you, gently nudging at your covered form. You have the urge to shoo her off, to tuck in tighter so she won't see you like this, but find yourself unable to. Instead, you open up a little hole in the blanket, which she quickly flies through to nuzzle into your neck. Your sweet flower...right.

Tomorrow is a new day, and you've already decided it's going to be a good day- no matter what.

 

************

 

The problems start early. Dance of the little swan's chimes happily through the air, but only on the last few notes are you able to rise. Today is going to be a good day. You'll repeat it as many times as you need. Today is going to be a good day.

It's a yogurt cup (and 4 sugar packets) for you this morning, and you manage to make it out the door, dressed and packed by your usual time. 6:45. Nice

Except. Except you get this thought when you're about halfway down the stairs. What if you forgot something. Your bag feels like the same weight as usual, but you thought that yesterday too when you were missing your shoes. You check over your bag best you can while on the stairwell, and everything _seems_ fine, but you start heading back up anyway. Better safe than sorry.

You worry over your apartment for almost another 15 minutes, sure you've left something but unable to think of what exactly. Scavenger hunts are quite hard when you're not looking for anything. You leave again when you can't take it- 7: 03, you'll have to sprint if you want to make it for coffee today. Mystery something left behind and anxiety a tight knot in your chest, you set off again.

Left, right, left left. You're a pink blur on the streets, dodging and weaving around the sleepy figures. Someone else is a blur too though, and your mutual blurs clash quite painfully around Main street.

"Ow!" they yelp when you crash into them, tumbling painfully down. You make much the same noise, similarly laid out on the concrete. You two take a moment to collect yourselves, and then the mystery person is struggling to get to their feet because - skates? Oh! It's Grapefruit! You scramble up, getting a hold of her arm to help her up, pet buzzing anxiously around the two of you.

"Oh no- I'm so sorry! Are you alright - should have been paying more attention to where I was going." You say, gently dusting her off. The initial shock seems to have worn off, and she points her big bright smile your way.

"Aw, don't sweat it Whipped! JT, baby calm down I'm fine-" she snatches her pet from the air, holding him securely to her chest. He makes a relived cooing noise and she laughs a little before continuing "Probably shouldn't be going full speed demon on the street anyways- my fault too! Are _you_ okay?"

You nod, holding up your arms in a display of just how alright you are. She laughs, and the sound gets you laughing too.

"That's what I like to hear! Take care of yourself and I'll see you at the show tomorrow! Break a leg! Er- I mean- Try not to until then!" She says, carefully moving around you to push off again. You call out a goodbye, smiling after her. Grapefruits energy is infectious, and you feel a lot better, short as the conversation may have been.

That is until you try and set off yourself. This is Main street, so the brewhouse is... is... Left, left, right, left? But you already did that... What's next. What's next Whipped Cream, you weren't even thinking about it before and you had it- why are you slipping up now?

You walk down a street you don't recognize, then another, then down you _think_ you do but really don't, and end up back on Main, flustered and growing impatient. 7:25. Forget it- just forget it- you need to get to the gym.

 _That_ at least you know how to get to from Main, and the mad dash you made to get there cleared your head a little. Okay. Today is a good day, you just really have to _work_ for it.

The air is cool and refreshing on your skin, and you pull your ID card from your bag, scanning it with a sigh. It makes the same noise as yesterday, and you patiently flag down the same attendant.

"Again?" they ask, smiling a little.

"Again," you reply, running a hand through your hair. "Sorry, but can you..?"

"Here," they say, turning a little keypad to you "My...contriversial method got busted yesterday, just type in your user ID and you'll be good to go."

"...My user ID?" you blanche, gripping onto your bag a little tighter.

"Yes sir, you would have made it when you first joined? 6 digits?"

....

No. No, you really can't handle that right now! Without a word turn on your heel and promptly exit the building. You'd spend far too long trying to remember and make yourself feel worse and worse- and y'know what? That doesn't cut it today. Why? Because it's going to be a good day.

You'll just... You'll head to the theatre early, burn some off some time and worry. There- now that's a proper plan.

You walk to the train station, checking the schedules. The blue line comes in... -2 minutes. You hope everyone is alright, and wonder what exactly could make a train late- but trail off when you think about where exactly you'll be getting off.

You've always sort of just...known. But what stop is it? What's the exit station? North Castle H- No. no that was the old auditorium- this show has _always_ been at the newly renovated one. So where is it?

The train arrives ahead of you, and you quickly file on and find a seat. The overhead maps make things no less clear but... you can do this.

Somewhere lost in your head, you _know_ you know the answer. For months now you've gotten off at the right stop, a feeling in your stomach telling you 'here! right here, you've been on long enough'. Thinking about it just erases it or something- you don't know!

This sucks! This _sucks_ you hate feeling like this you- you pinch off that thought, swallowing hard as the train gently pushes off. Today is a good day. You'll get to the theater and dance away everything wrong, and today will be good.

You lay your head on the window and close your eyes, content to let your subconscious handle this one. You need a break anyway.

'here! right here, you've been on long enough'

Your eyes flutter open when you feel it and immediately stand up. You stomp a little to get rid of the pins and needles in your left leg, and sure enough, the train comes to a gentle stop not but a few seconds later. You scoop up your bag and quickly exit.

... Why are you in the forest. The little platform stands as the lone structure all around, tall and elegant trees all around. _How exactly did you manage this_? You look up to the main screen to see a rather upsetting message greeting you.

 **Blue line temporarily offline- engine malfunction**.

You thought you were on the blue line?! You whip around to find the train already heading back the way it came- bold red stripe running along the side of it. No.

You look back to the time schedule, to find the red train returns in a little over an hour. This must be the end of the line. _No_. You didn't- _couldn't_ have messed up this bad.

And yet here you stand. You _did_ mess up, pretty spectacularly. You can't even play it on your memory, the color was right in front of you- you're just an idiot. Pure born and raised- _stupid_. You're positively livid with yourself, throwing your bag down on the ground and pacing the length of the platform.

Today has been downright miserable, chest squeezing far to tight and mind going every which way trying to pull information you just don't have, and this last little development has made it all the worse.

You. You find yourself quite short of breath. Your chest rises and falls same as it always has, faster, deeper even, but you're just not getting air, and your head spins and hands shake with the loss. Something is wrong and you don't know how to make it better- so you do what you'd do if it were a cookie cutter problem.

You need air, and apparently, the train station just isn't cutting it. The solution? There's a whole forest _right there._ Look at that even! The red line just got pushed back further for god knows why! Why are you still here!

You stumble off of the platform, not bothering to collect your bag as you walk/stumble into the treeline. You honestly don't know what the plan is- but you don't care! Life sucks and you want to be near a tree, you're a simple creature.

The perfect spot presents itself right as you begin regretting your decision to trek into the middle of nowhere, and you immediatly settle into its twisted roots, laying your head back against the trunk. Breathe in- two, three- breathe out. 

The world is quiet and still, and it feels good. _You_ don't feel good, not yet, but this is a start. Breathe in, two, three. Breathe out. You're okay. Breathe in, two, three, breathe out. Something about the smell here though... Breathe in, two three... oh god.

The cool, earthy smell is almost a dead ringer for what Herb smells like. Breathe in- breathe- you can't you can't you _can't_! You didn't go back to his shop yesterday! He was trying to do something nice for you and you just walked on home without a thought about it! How could you _forget?!_   _Stupid_ , stupid, stupid!

You can't help it anymore, and tears spill down your cheeks before you can try and call it a good day. _It's not_. It's not and you probably made his day a bad one by not showing and you feel miserable.

You press your hands into your eyes, draw your knees up to your chest, and just let it out for a while. A long while. There's this moment when you think you have it under control- sobs turning to soft hiccups and tears starting to peter out- but then the idea that you might be late for rehearsal pops in your head and you wail anew.

Skatings gonna think you forgot- or-or that you're mad at her and let emotions mess with your performance and either way you don't think you can face her. You'll just- you-you don't know what to do so you just cry instead.

A shadow moves over you, and you don't pull up your head. 

The shadow clears their throat, and you tuck in tighter, crying harder even, now that you know someone is there to see. A mental breakdown in the forest- quite the spectacle. 

The shadow places a gentle hand on your knee, then under your chin to tilt up your head. You finally give it your focus, blinking open your watery eyes. Your vision is tear blurry and hazed by the sudden light, but you see what you need. Red eyes, large form, a mass of black. Muscle Cookie. (Why is he here?)

You don't think before you launch at him, head in his chest and arms tightly around his middle. You two are gym buddies mostly, but in the two years you've been going there you've had a feelings jam maybe 3 times? He's a good friend, and a good shoulder to cry on- and right now you desperately want both.

You cry it out, clinging to him, and eventually, you feel a tentative hand wrap around you (why is he scared to touch you?).

"I- I tried r- really hard today I'm just- I'm- I'm _stupid_ Muscle I can't I'm sorry I didn't show- they- and I couldn't remember ssso I left but it was the wrong train and I've _never_ had a problem with the train before and- and- I- _I can't_! I'm sorry this is stupid I'm stupid I dunno why I can't just _remember_ -"

You let it all pour out, the heavy knot in your chest spilling out your mouth in a messy jumble. When it's done though, it doesn't move back to your chest. It's out.

You hiccup, tears not done with you yet, but they don't sting like they did before.

You stay tucked in Muscles chest while the rest of your little attack comes and goes, shakily petting on the fabric of... You don't really know what you're petting, heavy and velvety... You don't really know what your heads on either, the cool metal doing wonders for your flushed face but... It's hard enough to get Muscle in a shirt, why would he be wearing armor.

You let your eyes open slowly to adjust to the light, and while you have to blink several times to focus...yeah. Yeah, that's definitely armor, tarnished and dark. In sort of a shock, you look up to find a face that... well, it's not Muscles in any case.

Mystery Cookie seems to have noticed the shift and looks down at you too, awkward but still concerned. He opens his mouth, then closes it. You do the same. Well. Um.

"I... I think you may have the wrong cookie Little Swan" He says eventually, tone soft. He's... you know that voice. You _know_ that voice.

"..I. I think s-so too..." You say, focused on his face. Dark red eyes, serious set. Straight, dark hair- white stripe. The lips the jaw the brow the _face_ \- you _know_ this face.

You only notice you're leaning in when you see him leaning back, ever so slightly flushed in the face. "...I'm so sorry, I thought- well. I think you know what I thought but- I-"

"Are you okay?" He asks, shushing your ramble before it can begin. "You shouldn't be alone out here..."

"I'm okay now... And I really am sorry. Normally-" you laugh humorlessly a little, hiccuping. "I normally make a better impression..." You must look a wreck, tear-streaked and flustered, but you get the impression of a smile from him anyway.

"Are you lost?"

... Are you? You know the direction you came from, but does that count really? Are you even 100% you know the way you came?

"I... I don't know." It doesn't hurt and despite the (frankly ridiculous) size difference, you don't feel small admitting it. "I came from the train station but..."

"But?"

"..But I don't think I can get back."

"I see... May I pick you up?" Do you need to be carried? Probably not. Would you like to be? You would, absolutely.

The knight's...everything screamed dangerous, the armor, the scar, the cape, and yet he let you cry on him. He held you while you couldn't control yourself and hasn't yet let go. You wonder if he heard you crying and came to help. You certainly weren't making an effort to stay quiet... You feel safe, and since your heads not wanting to play nice today, you'll just have to trust your gut.

"Please." You say lightly, and in under a second your legs are moved from under you, and you're lifted in the air. This is...you know this. _You know_ you know this.

His arms secure around you, familiar. His eyes dead set on the path ahead but flickering down to you every few seconds- making sure you're still okay- familiar. Your head on his chest plate, familiar. The feel of his cape as it brushes against your cheek every so often, _familiar._  The way he runs his hand through your wet hair, cooing and soothing you as you cling to him, trembling and soaked, fam- hey wait a second.

You... You've... You've got it! You've got it you know who this cookie is!

It's been years now, back when you were the biggest little swan of the bevy and the only thing in your head was the next move of your dance.

Life was...different then. But you loved it desperately, loved dancing by the water and loved your feathered family more than anything. They were the best teachers a cookie could ask for, stern yet understanding, protective but ever so graceful in all they did, and forever loving... you'll visit them soon.

One very firm rule though was to stay out of the water. Their pond was modest but deep, and they'd seen too many strong swimmers get sucked under by the aerated water in the center to risk their sweet little swan. With no one willing to teach you to swim and no real desire to learn, it was a wonder you made it as far as you did in life without drowning. You'd been practicing late one night, using the moonlight and mirror still water to try and perfect a jump on your little peer, when a board gave under you.

The water was freezing and you were _terrified_ , suddenly in the one place in the whole world that was forbidden. You thrashed and screamed, gagging when only water greeted you, fighting to keep your head above the surface. You fought the pond, and in under 30 seconds, the pond won.

The world went dark around you and really, truly, you thought you'd died.

You came to with hands on your face and an all over ache comparable to nothing else in the world. Not fun. Immediately hacking up at least a gallon of pond water? Also not fun.

You get an actual look at your savior when you fall back against the bank, utterly spent, and they roll you on to your back, gently brushing the hair from your eyes.

Red eyes, hulking form, a mass of dripping black hair with one long white strip cutting through it. He dove in after you. You- you almost died and he- the shock wore off almost instantly, and you clung to him like the lifeline he was, crying and shaking to pieces.

"Shh, shh shh, I'm here Little Swan, it's alright, you're safe. You're safe with me, I promise."

It took a while, but you were eventually soothed enough to lay back. The world spun around you, and it took far more will than it should have to speak as he pet your hair, checking you over for other injuries.

"You... L-little Swan?" you'd asked, slurred and growing more and more tired by the second. You were fine, really, just exhausted and waterlogged. Why you focused on that little bit at the time, you'll never really know.

"Ah..." he replied as he gently lifted your arm (why are you bleeding? How did that happen?) His voice was low and slow, and yet you still had a hard time following it. "My apologies it's... You're the little lake dancer. I've seen you here often with the birds, and I... well. It's a little nickname I suppose. Forgive me, I-"

"I like it.." you murmured, sliding your eyes closed... how very heavy you felt. "And you?"

"And I?"

"Your name, my hero, _please_?" you begged. You also tried to sit up, to take his hand, _something_ , but merely twitched, whimpering at the extension.

" _Easy_ , easy now. It's okay. Needn't hurt yourself for my name, when it's so freely given. It's-"

" _Dark Choco Cookie!_ " You all but shout, suddenly very in the present.

You startle him to the point he almost drops you, clutching you tightly to his chest after he recovers and blinking wide-eyed. "Wh-"

"You're Dark Chocolate Cookie you- I - you're my hero!" Something pained crosses his face, and he shakes his head, no longer able to look at you.

"I'm not fit to be anyone's hero, not anymore.."

Forget the stupid cryptic shit, you're elated! "You rescued me from my pond, _years_ ago now, saved my life I dunno if you'd remember but-" you gasp, grinning big and bright at him. "You do! You remember me, you called me Little Swan earlier I- and unless you hurl me right now into a tree and walk away -you're my hero Dark Choco"

He holds you a little tighter to himself, apparently unwilling to throw you, and that seals the deal. Twice- _Twice_ he's been there for you. You've known him maybe a collective 15 minutes, and he's already done so much for you.

You're all over yourself in excitement, and gently cup his face to turn him back to you, then kiss his cheek, one, twice, a baker's dozen- who knows really.

The walk feels a lot shorter, and in no time he's gently setting you down next to your bag, flustered and avoiding your gaze.

" _Thank you_ "

"O-of course."

" _And_ thank you for pulling me out of the pond, so long ago... will I have to wait years to see you again?" You ask, collecting your bag. You hope at least he might want to see you again.

"It's not at my discretion... I work on the will of larger forces now. I'm sorry." Oh no, you're not letting it go that easily. (i.e. Tall, dark and sad isn't getting away again, now that you've finally found him. You woke up alone on that bank.)

"Can you ask those forces if you could have tomorrow night off?" He's taken slightly aback, looking at you with an amused sort of confusion. "I have a performance tomorrow, it'd mean the world to me if you came."

"I don't-"

"87200 Cherryfloat Av, downtown? The show starts at 6, and you don't _have_ to but... Just- think about it okay? I've gotten a whole lot better since you last saw me."

As if able to sense a moment ending, you hear the train whistle, and you turn to see it working its way quickly down the tracks towards you. Guess this has to be cut short then, _sigh_.

You turn back around to tell Dark Choco you must be leaving, maybe slip in one more please about tomorrow, but only empty air greets you. Oh... You scan the treeline, feeling as sad and wistful as the first time you found yourself without him- but this time, you're hopeful too. There's a chance you'll see him again, _soon._

The train arrives behind you, and you linger for only a moment before boarding, sighing dreamily to yourself as it departs once more. Today is a pretty good day.

You make it back to the main station in a blur, boarding the correct line while still in a dreamy haze. You hope he comes. You 'ought to be ready for when he doesn't but oh! _What if he does_.

The feather-light and rosy feeling carries you all the way to the theater and through the doors, then promptly gets mixed with the feather-light and rosy feeling of the stage. Checking your watch tells you that you still have about an hour until it's your turn, but you could care less.

The first empty practice room you find becomes yours, and in under a minute you've shed your street clothes and laced up, beginning to twirl.

A knock at the door startles you to a stop, and you huff a little- almost annoyed. (Almost. You're still feeling ecstatic, a little interruption couldn't pull you out of your bliss.) To your surprise (But delight), Skating Queen pokes her head in the door.

"Oh, here you are. I was worried you'd forgotten Whip, you're late."

You blink at her, squinting slightly. Hold on now- wait. Wait now that you're looking at your watch, an hour passed somehow. Are you sweaty? Firstly, ew, but secondly- you're soaked. Must've been _really_ in the zone, dang.

"Oh... Seems I am," you say airly, collecting your bag. "Sorry about that."

"You haven't put any thought into maybe... _focusing_ have you?" She says, disappointed by your tone. Jokes on her though, because today? Is a good day.

"I wanted to talk to you about that actually."

"Oh?"

"Oh is right," you say, reving up. This isn't a now or never situation, but if thinking like that will get you to speak your peace- it might as well be. "I really didn't like the way you spoke to me yesterday."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and you push on while you have the lead (since she's prone to interruptions and all). "I know that I forget some things... A _lot_ of things, and I know it's something I need to work on but... You made me feel really awful Skating. I tried really hard to just- _focus_ today, be more present and attentive and honestly? It was miserable. You're my rival and I know you were trying to get the best out of me- but you're my _friend_ too- and friends don't make friends feel like that."

You're flustered something awful, feeling cheesy and maybe a little dramatic but... but you like cheesy. And you think it's for the best. She's rosy in the cheeks too, looking you up and down before carefully answering.

"I... I was a little insensitive yesterday, I understand that. And I'm sorry, I just- it's frustrating to watch sometimes. You can be snappy too when you think one of your little dancers just isn't _trying_ , and I thought you weren't so... Sorry. It can't be helped, I get it n-"

"No!"

"N-no?" She asks, a little startled to have been cut off.

"No, I mean-" you groan, crossing your arms. How to put it... "It _can_ be helped. And I _am_ trying Skating, even if it doesn't seem like it. It's little things like- like friends and routines and friends knowing my routines, I used to write notes to myself like crazy and my apartment is kind of stupid organized and- _yeah_ I still mess up, kind of a lot but I _know_ I'm doing better than I have in years..."

You're sort of spilling an awful lot to a woman who isn't that high up your friend tier, but it can't be helped now. Finish strong. "It just- it's not a switch... I can't just flip it to _focus_ and be better so... mhm..." The 'mhm' wasn't quite the finish you wanted, but it'll do.

Skating Queen takes a moment to consider you, mouth pressed into its usual line, then sighs, jerking her head to the door. "C'mon then... we're waisting stage time."

Good as you're going to get probably. You scoop up your bag, moving to exit, but you're stopped in the doorway by her arms snaking around your chest.

Nothing is said between the two of you, and by hugging you from behind you can't hug her back, but you squeeze her hand, smiling to yourself. She squeezes you too, only once, before letting go and stepping back.

"Hup-two Whip, our time is slipping away." Good old Skating Queen.

Back to your state of rose and air, the stage feels like absolute heaven. The penultimate move comes and goes, and you fill it with the jump again without a thought about it. She doesn't mention it, and by the time you're unlacing your shoes she's halfway out of the auditorium, but you're sharp enough to catch the three words that cement today as a pretty great one.

"Good job Whip."

 

***************

 

You wake up the next morning with exactly two thoughts spurring you on. One: it's a performance day. Two: Dark Choco might be there to _see_ performance day.

Looking back you remember waking up and... no, no that's about it.

You're already at the theater, and anything you may have done on the way or how exactly you got here is lost in an excited haze.

Everyone is abuzz with costumes to worm into, bits to rehearse, makeup to apply, _everything_ is happening at once and in a great rush.

To avoid getting swallowed by the chaos, you and your little dancers are sequestered in one of the back practice rooms.

You help with lacing up their costumes, any last minute moves they might still be having trouble with, and run through the whole dance twice. They're the opening act, and while mostly you're seeing excitement, there's plenty of nerves too.

You do your best to stay a calm force, though cracks have to start showing by the time the director asks you the _third_ time to cover someone. Keep it calm now, run through what you'll be doing.

First up is Waltz of the flowers with the little ones. Next, you'll be filling in a contemporary dance (this one you're a little scared of- but you've seen the duet rehearse enough you _think_ you can handle it). The same poor girl you're filling in for from the duet was also part of a group dance, so you'll be handling that too.

Then there's another contemporary (ballet at least this time) with the head violinist. For a first timer he's _very_ insistent the routine be left the same and it's... not the easiest to learn in an hour. Last but not least- your performance to close it all.

Honestly? You're horribly anxious backstage, running through each dance again and again with your respective partners. Each new style is fun to try, sure, but on stage you don't know if you'll do each justice.

Deep down, you know you aren't really expected to nail each and every step. You're a body up there, because a hole on stage looks so much worse than a body, even if said body is stumbling through the dance. And yet... you don't want to stumble through. You want to _wow._

And the time 6 o'clock comes you're _ready_ to wow. Or. To try and wow at least. Deep breath in, you gently herd your little dancers to their spots in the dark. Deep breath out. You take your pose, the light floods your vision- and you're off.

Your little flowers do wonderfully, nailing each move there was anxiety over and wearing big bright smiles through the whole song. The contemporary passes without a slip, dance mostly consisting of you being picked up, spun, or dipped with little time in-between. You have exactly 2 minutes for a costume and makeup change, and you take your pose for the next dance breathing hard.

The group is easy to hide a mistake or misstep in, though you find yourself not minding when you catch yourself making them. Their music is loud, some pop song you don't recognize but will look for in earnest when all is said and done- hard to be upset too- fun.

The second contemporary, the ballet, is harder than you would have liked, but you make it through. Your partner, Mint Choco, is easy to move with, and while the two of you aren't perfect you find an easy synergy. The very end however nearly takes you out.

Fouettés. Your signature (and favorite) move. About 25 on them, one right after the other. You nail each and every one, keeping them precise and elegant- but it takes all your willpower not to outright pant as you wobble to your spot for the bow. That was... that was awful, you feel almost dizzy as you dip low, then straighten out again. Intermission couldn't have come at a better time.

You smile to the audience and turn to exit the stage with Mint as the house lights rise, but something catches your eye that nearly makes you go head over heels. Heels over head? That almost makes you faceplant on the stage.

Red eyes, large form, a mass of black tucked neatly into the far corner of the auditorium. Honestly, you wouldn't have spotted him had he not have the white stripe.

Heart pounding, you have to resist the urge to run back centerstage and wave, settling for swooning backstage. That. That may have been a faint actually, you're having trouble rising again. Fucking fouettés.

You get swarmed by your little flowers, all terribly worried as they try and get you to sip water or fan at your face. One at least has sense enough to run find the director, and by the time Mint Choco Cookie has maneuvered you into a chair he arrives.

"Mon étoile, darling- what's happened?"

"I'm fine- I'm fine just- I just got hot out there and tripped I'm alright."

"You tripped onstage?"

"I'm a professional, of course n-"

"He fainted sir," Mint Choco cuts in, hand light on your shoulder. "Check his breathing, I know exhausted when I see it. Probably from the all the excess you have him running around on." You're breathing weird? You're... you are breathing kinda weird, deep and raspy.

"The excess let you keep your spot, please don't start this- and he's my prima, he can handle it."

"He most certainly can't, or have you forgotten he has his own dance in-" Mint checks his watch and tuts, eyes narrow "Ten minutes now."

"He agreed-"

"You didn't _ask_ him, you _told_ him to fill in he wouldn't have agreed otherwise-"

"Oh don't be absurd, he's always ready to lend a hand-"

"Well you now have a 40-minute hole in your show- hope you can figure it out-"

"Aren't you supposed to be getting back to the orchestra pit by now-"

Yikes. You hit your fill of _that_ pretty quickly and wobble to your feet to try and see how bad off you really are. Ballet is your life, surely you can tough out _one_ dance.

In your dressing room, you work off the last costume and get into the signature pink one, ruffling up your frills and smoothing the tights along your legs.

Bending down does _not_ feel good, and when you raise your arms to fluff your hair your arms politely protest. Not hurt, not yet, but almost. You go out there and you will be.

With five minutes remaining, you carefully walk back over to your chair and settle, not upset or angry just... a little sad. You've done a good thing by helping the theatre out, but how you excited you'd been for your routine, for Dark Choco to see said routine. He actually came even.

You hear a soft, trilling note, and disregard it. It plays again, louder this time, and you sit up a little straighter. Do you recognize that...? The third time you hear it, much closer now, you turn just in time to catch a very excited Rosette in the face, nearly sending you and your chair toppling.

"Oh! Oh, sweetheart how did you get back here, I thought you wanted to stay at home-wait, how- how did you get out actually?"

She flutters around your head, delighted to see you in your signature attire, disregarding your questions almost completely. Silly little flower, you collect her in your arms and pepper her petals in soft kisses.

"Must've left the window open again hm?"

She trills in confirmation, jerking in your arms. At least it won't rain tonight...

"I'm so sorry you've come all this way for nothing my lovely rose, but I won't be performing." She makes a soft gasping sound, then nudges at the frill around your neck. "No, yes I know dear, I am in costume but I can't." Rosette leaves your arms, circling around you. "Oh stop that love, I'm fine, just tired is all."

"Whip, we've talked about this there are no pets back here, move to the green room." your director calls, and you'd say something back but... he seems pretty invested in his conversation with Mint still. Drama kings.

Rosette nuzzles at the back of your head, and when you turn to face her she swoops behind your back, pushing you to the stage.

"Rosette, mon cher, stop it I can't go on like this- I've hit my end for the night so-...so you're absolutely right! My wonderful little treasure you're just what I need, how could I forget, thank you thank you _thank you!_ " She flutters around you happily, and begins to return each of your kisses, starting to glow a gentle pink.

With each little peck, you feel a little more revitalized, energetic. Sore muscles loosen up and exhaustion gives way to determination. You can make it through thanks to your little rose, and you'll have to remember to do something truly special for her later.

She flutters out from under the grand drape, presumably to go find someplace in the audience to watch, and you quickly drag the director away to tell him 'Hey! I'm all better and you should probably stop distracting out best musician gonna take my place we're up in 30 bye~'

You'll deal with the fallout later, right now, it's finally your turn. You take your place, setting your feel and arching you back gently backward.

The curtain opens, the lights rise on you. Deep breath. Three, two, one- and you're off.

An instant and an eternity (and exactly 41 minutes) later, you hit your last pose, heart racing and spirit soaring. The lights go down, the applause hits, and you're in the air all over again.

Bowing feels like it takes longer than usual, like your body wants you to stay on stage, keep going, but as you scan the back of the room and find _him_ again, your heart takes the wheel.

You don't bother to take off your costume as you cool down, while the last dance goes on then the director gives final words to the audience, and as soon as you're able you bolt to the lobby.

Smiles and selfies and congratulations all around, you worry your knight may slip off before you can wade through them all. You don't find him in the spot where he watched from, don't find him in the common area, and in the slim chance he might be there you don't find him outside in the courtyard.

Rosette pushing at you to go inside, you sigh and look at the moon. At least he came...

"Stop pushing flower, I'm going, I'm going... Just hoped to see someone."

She most certainly does _not_ stop pushing at you, even as you go back inside the theatre and onto the stage.

She bops at you when you trade compliments with other dancers and pulls at your sleeve while the director gives you his private thanks. "Stop it, darling, what is _so_ important."

She leads you down the dressing room hallway and settles in front of yours. Specifically, she settles on _his_ shoulder plate.

There Dark Choco Cookie stands in all his glory, in front of your dressing room. You have to run over it a few times to get it to process correctly. He's. He's here. He stayed.

"Whipped Cream?" He asks softly, looking at you because. You- that's you, you're Whipped Cream Cookie. Right.

"...You stayed." you say, blinking. You move right in front of him, first looking at his face, then to your lovely pet resting on him. Silly flower.

"You expected different?"

“You have a bad track record."

He laughs a little, smiling that soft, not-quite-smile your way. "My deepest apologies. I would be honored if you would give me just one more shot though, to prove myself? Perhaps... Perhaps next Saturday?"

You smile your very real smile _his_ way, positively glowing as you respond.

"Larger forces approved?"

"Close enough."

"Then I'd love to."

You get a real smile shone your way for that, small and tired but genuine enough to get your knees weak. Weaker, maybe, you think you might've landed funny on one of your grand jetés.

"You know the little meadow just outside of the crystal district?"

You nod, though honestly, the proper name of the place escapes you. Who cares, _no one_ remembers it. "Perfect. There at..."

"My day is yours."

"11 then. I must go, this took far longer than expected, I just couldn't risk losing a moment of your performance. Ah, _performances_ ,you displayed quite an impressive stamina tonight."

"I told you I'd improved... So soon?" You ask.

"So soon." He responds, gently scooping Rosette off his shoulder and handing her to you. She whirrs, and you stroke her petals softly. Shame... But he's set you up for you're favorite kind of goodbye at least.

You step closer, running a hand up his chest plate to snag a shoulder guard and pull him down to you. From there, you carefully plant a kiss on his cheek, and quietly reply "I'm counting the minutes then till next time, my knight." and release. You _love_ cheesy. He straightens back up, red in the face and flustered, so you continue on. "Next Saturday at 11, the meadow by the crystal district. I'll remember."

It takes more will than you'd expect to step around him into your dressing room, even more so to shut the door. Next Saturday at 11, the meadow by the crystal district.

  
****************

 

"And another deep breath in, and hold... Let all your tensions you feel in your body and mind flow out on the...exhale. Good, deep breath out. As you raise your upper body, the power should be coming from your hips, nice and slow, nice and even- Ah- Whipped, buddy you've gotta stop talking."

You startle slightly, blushing. "Sorry Yoga! Hips- right!"

She laughs a little, starting back at hips. Or something. You're not 100% sure exactly, because the moment she starts going again you're right back to excitedly whispering with Cheesecake Cookie.

"How thrilling!" she quietly squeals, only half-heartedly following along. "Oh I love that meadow at lunchtime, the lighting is just perfect and _romantic_ , couldn't have picked a better time-"

"Ah ah ah, meadow by the crystal district, Saturday at _11_.Not quite lunch time."

"I'm sorry what was that? I didn't quite catch that one little bit you've been repeating _since we got here!_ Something about a date?" she teases, carefully bumping you.

"Saturday at 11, the meadow by the crystal district." you sigh back. "Oh, CC I just can't-"

"Whipped Cream Cookie, I'm able and willing to twist you into a knot- hush!"

“Ah- I'm sorry! I'm just really really excited for-"

“For Saturday at 11, in the meadow by the crystal district. _Later_ sweet thing, _later_. And we're going to rise now- everyone on your feet and streeeaach as high as you can- touch the ceiling-"

With three days to go, you find you've long since hit the ceiling.

 

****************

 

"-but he didn't tell me what exactly we'd be doing so I dunno how to dress, you know I hate showing up underdressed but he's already sort of seen me at my lowest Muscle- and my best now that I think about it since he came to my show- but still, I want to impress and his armor is kind of a do it all outfit so I know _he's_ not stressing about it-"

"Whip- Whip, slow down for me, you're going too fast. We've talked about this, 100 bpm at max."

"Right, you're right I forgot sorry," you say, shifting a little. You're currently resting on Muscle Cookies back as he does pushups (you yourself doing an arm day with your 5 pounders) with a very important job- keeping his pace. You start again, much slower. "But no matter what I think it's going to be absolutely magical Muscle... Even if I look like a dip."

"You won't look like a dip, Whip."

"You two sorta look like dips right now." Skating Queen says as she enters the practice room, collecting her own weights. Look whos late now. She's been working out with you the past few days, and while things are kind of... weird. You like it. You think she might too.

"You always look like a dip Queenie, shush. Anyway- Saturday at 11, in the meadow by the crystal district... sigh."

"Why do you just say the word sigh?"

"Less talking, more arm day- you've got a lot to catch up on- weight and conversation wise! I'll start from the top!"

Muscle groans under you and Skating makes a face, but who cares, you have a _date_. (A date on Saturday at 11, in the meadow by the crystal district.)

  
****************

 

"- but the poor little thing just wouldn't perk up Whip, it was crazy. Didn't like more sunlight, definitely didn't like less sunlight- even tried distilled water, if you remember my Ivy is a picky drinker too-"

“Mhm" you say airily.

"So naturally I repotted it, and while there's a chance of shock I'm pretty good at avoiding that, _especially_ with succulents."

"Mhm..." you say again, sighing happily.

"...But now I'm thinking, 'Hm. Clearly, the only way to get this lovely little aloe to rise is to verbally abuse it, really dig in.' Think it's a good idea?"

"Mhm..."

Herb laughs lightly and snaps in front of your face a few times, smiling. You focus after a second, blinking at him.

"Hello?" you ask like the airhead you can sometimes be, and he has to bite his knuckle to keep from losing his mind. He looks like a doofus when he does it, and it gets you laughing too.

The two of you sit in the brewhouse after hours, enjoying his new concoction and chit-chatting. Or at least, you thought you were chit-chatting. " _What_?"

"I bet I can guess where you were just then." Herb says when he's somewhat collected himself

"I was sitting right here the whole time!" You reply, giggling.

"No, where you really were." you give him the motion to continue, and he grins slyly, resting his chin in his hand.

"Tomorrow at 11, in the meadow by the crystal district."

You bite _your_ knuckle now, giggling into your hands."Was it that obvious?!"

"Pretty obvious Whip."

"I'm just excited! I'm allowed to be excited, aren't I?"

"I can _tell_ you're excited, the whole city can tell you're excited, probably the whole world by now! Dork, you've been saying that nonstop all week."

"Maybe I did go a little overboard talking about it... wasn't annoying was it?"

"Cute, not annoying, don't worry... Can I ask you something though?" his tone turns a little more serious as he glances over you.

"...Yeah, of course."

"It kinda reminds me of that couple of months where you'd repeat like, _everything_ , a dozen times so it'd stick with you... Is it like that?"

You blink for a moment, considering. _Is it_ like that? "... Y'know. I don't think so. I'm excited and- and I think a little love-struck... _How could I forget?"_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was spurred on from the joke that Whipped Cream has one (1) brain cell and uses it to love boys. In all seriousness though, I love him an awful lot and hope it shines through here. Why is he so forgetful you ask? Shush. He just is, and I love him for it.


End file.
